


The Break in the Code

by thecommodore_squid (orphan_account)



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Arcades, Author Knows Nothing About Motorcycles, Canon-Typical Violence, Clint and Bucky are Bros, F/M, Fluff, Group Therapy, Happy Ending, M/M, Motorcycles, Racing, Spiders (Lots of Spiders I'm so Sorry), Tony Stark Has A Heart
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-11
Updated: 2015-09-11
Packaged: 2018-04-20 04:40:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,050
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4773878
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/thecommodore_squid
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Well, know that you have it better than a lot of us out there,” the blonde woman named Dottie said.</p><p>Bucky bristled. “Yeah, I- I know that. I just... don’t you guys think there could be something more for us out there?”</p><p>“What do you mean?” asked the Mandarin, who Bucky secretly thought was kind of an idiot.</p><p>Bucky swallowed heavily, looking around. “Maybe I don’t want to be the bad guy anymore.”<br/> <br/>AKA<br/>A Wreck-It Ralph AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Break in the Code

**Author's Note:**

> I had fun with this one. I hope you guys like it too. Also, if any of you guys are afraid of spiders, you may want to proceed with caution.
> 
> (ALSO I FIGURED OUT HOW TO DO THE LINE THINGY BETWEEN SECTIONS AND I AM VERY EXCITED ABOUT IT.)
> 
> All mistakes are my own.
> 
> Comments are both appreciated and encouraged! *casual yet inviting winky face*

“...and everything’s falling apart, all the time. For once, I want to be the favorite. I want my brother to look at me and not see a disappointment. I want to be King.”

 

“Thank you for sharing, Loki. Any suggestions to help the demigod out?”

 

A chair creaked as the Red Skull shifted slightly.

 

“Al-right,” Sam said, drawing the word out slowly. “Loki, have you tried talking to your brother about how you feel?”

 

Loki scowled, crossing his arms. “Of course not. That is out of the question.”

 

“...Right. Anybody else have anything?”

 

There was another rousing discussion of nothing.

 

Sam sighed. “Okay, I get that therapy is scary and shit, but seriously guys. Nothing?”

 

There was nothing.

 

“Fine. Somebody else say something. You.” Sam pointed, and it took Bucky a minute to realize that he was pointing at him. “You haven’t said anything since the day you started coming, man. Why don’t you give it a try?” His voice was gentle, as always, but Bucky couldn’t help but feel slightly victimized.

 

Bucky sat up a little straighter, a lump in his throat. “Uh... Hi. I’m the Winter Soldier. But you guys can call me Bucky.”

 

“ _Hi, Bucky_.”

 

(God, that was unnerving when it was directed towards him.)

 

Bucky sighed, staring down at his lap. “I mean, I guess I have it pretty good in comparison to some other villains out there. I’m in a game called Target Practice, which is kind of a war game. My hero is actually a pretty nice guy. And, you know, outside the job, we get along pretty well. Most of the other soldiers are... not as nice. I mean, beggars can’t be choosers, but would it be too much to ask for a little sympathy? I... the worst part of my day is when the kids beat the game, and Hawkeye has to shoot me off a train. I fall into the snow, and since I’m the villain, that’s where I have to stay. I can’t join the soldiers in their camps for obvious reasons, so I found this little cave. It’s not much, but it’s home... I- I don’t really know what else to say.”

 

“Well, know that you have it better than a lot of us out there,” the blonde woman named Dottie said.

 

Bucky bristled. “Yeah, I- I _know_ that. I just... don’t you guys think there could be something more for us out there?”

 

“What do you mean?” asked the Mandarin, who Bucky secretly thought was kind of an idiot.

 

Bucky swallowed heavily, looking around. “Maybe I don’t want to be the bad guy anymore.”

 

The Red Skull actually laughed. “You cannot be serious.” He had a wickedly German accent.

 

“I actually am,” Bucky said, jaw jutting out. “I’m sick of it- of everyone thinking I’m a _bad guy_ just because I’m a villain... I’m sick of living alone in the snow and falling out of that stupid train. I don’t want it anymore.”

 

There were a few whispers across the group before Sam spoke. “Look, Bucky... What you’re feeling is very common...”

 

“But,” cut in Loki, “we can’t change who we are.”

 

Bucky scowled. “What if I don’t feel like I’m _supposed_ to be the villain?”

 

“We’ve all felt like that before,” Ultron said, robotic face going stormy. “For a while, I thought I was actually the hero of my story.”

 

“Ultron is right,” Sam added. “However, you’ve been assigned a role in your game. No matter how strongly you feel, you just can’t change it. You _are_ a villain.” As always, Sam’s voice was kind and his eyes were sympathetic. Somehow, it made him feel worse.

 

Bucky felt his face shutter as he glared sullenly at the ground.

 

Someone patted him on the back. He turned to see Yellow Jacket’s sympathetic face. “You’ll get there, Soldier.”

 

“Alright, I think that’s enough for today,” Sam said, smiling toothily. “Let’s finish off with the Villain’s Manifesto.”

 

Bucky reluctantly got to his feet along with everyone else, joining hands.

 

“ _I’m bad, and that’s good. I’ll never be good, and that’s not bad. There’s no one I’d rather be than me_.”

 

And that was where it started.

 

* * *

 

 

“So, Clint...”

 

Clint looked up from where he was sharpening his arrows, gaze weary.

 

Bucky cleared his throat, looking down at his hands: one flesh, one metal.

 

“I was thinking...”

 

“What is it?” Clint asked.

 

Bucky chanced a glanced up at him. “Maybe I could hang out with you guys at the camp tonight?” His voice sounded small, even to his own ears.

 

Clint’s face twisted into pity. “Oh, Bucky...”

 

Bucky’s shoulders hunched. He knew what was coming.

 

“I just don’t know if the other guys would be okay with that.”

 

Bucky nodded to himself rapidly. “Right, right. Of course. It was a stupid idea. Ignore me.”

 

Clint looked pained as he rubbed a hand across his stubbly jaw. “You know I like you, man. You’re the best villain a hero could ask for.”

 

Bucky just shrugged.

 

“The other guys just don’t trust you.”

 

“They know that the Winter Soldier is just a role, right?”

 

Clint’s face crumpled. “You don’t... _really_ believe that, do you?”

 

Bucky crossed his arms. “Do I _act_ like an assassin after hours?” he snapped.

 

“Of course not, but that doesn’t mean you’re not him.”

 

Scowling, Bucky muttered, “Whatever. It’s not like I wanted to hang out with you guys anyway. Just a bunch of sweaty guys who make shitty jokes.”

 

There was a pause before Clint sighed. “I’ll see what I can do, but don’t get your hopes up.”

 

Bucky relaxed a little, looking at his hero with a tiny glimmer of hope. “Really?”

 

Clint looked exhausted already. “Really.”

 

* * *

 

 

Lying in the snow, Bucky heard the whooping cheers of the soldiers that Clint called his friends.

 

He blinked, eyelids touching each other with a feather-light delicacy before they parted again, already covered in frosted crystals. As always, the sky was grey and the wind was brilliant. Bucky was terribly glad for his outfit. The only parts of his body that were exposed were his eyes, hair, and left arm.

 

Poor Clint had to wear a sleeveless suit to show off his impressively muscled biceps.

 

“YOU OKAY DOWN THERE, WINTER?” one of the soldiers called sarcastically.

 

Bucky pretended not to hear him, getting to his feet shakily. The fall always left him hurting like a bitch, left shoulder aching with the cold, body buzzing unpleasantly from the impact.

 

“BUCKY!” Clint called, waving madly.

 

Bucky braced himself for embarrassment. “WHAT?”

 

“COME HANG OUT WITH US!”

 

The soldiers let out yelps of protests with varying degrees of intensity.

 

“SOUNDS LIKE I’M NOT ALL THAT WELCOME.”

 

“THAT’S FUCKING RIGHT. WE’RE A HEROES-ONLY CLUB,” one of them called.

 

Bucky frowned, unable to help himself. “I COULD BE A HERO IF I WANTED TO BE.”

 

Raucous laughter followed the statement.

 

“YEAH, SURE. MAYBE I’D BELIEVE THAT IF YOU HAD A LITTLE PROOF.”

 

Subconsciously, Bucky’s hands curled into fists. “YOU WANNA MAKE A BET, DIPSHITS?”

 

“SURE THING, WINTER.”

 

They walked off, laughing, leaving Clint hovering awkwardly by the cliff. “I’M SORRY ABOUT THEM. PLEASE DON’T TAKE THEM SERIOUSLY,” he shouted apologetically before following the soldiers off to his warm camp.

 

They probably had food and a fire going.

 

Sullenly, Bucky trudged off towards the Wire, the system of transportation that would take him to the hub that connected all the games in the arcade. “I’ll fucking show them. I can be a damn hero. I’ll do it if it kills me.”

 

* * *

 

 

 

He took the Wire to Game Central Station, irritably flailing insults at the soldiers in his head.

 

Bucky had just had himself a _bad day_.

 

A bad day for a bad guy.

 

He winced.

 

He found himself at the Tavern, staring into the depths of a too-sweet beverage.

 

“You look like you want to murder your drink. Shitty day?”

 

Bucky looked up to see the bartender, a curly-haired guy named Bruce Banner who ended up listening to everybody’s problems all night.

 

Bucky shrugged. “Yeah. It was pretty shitty.”

 

Bruce made a sympathetic noise. “I know that look. I used to be a sort of part-time villain in a game that was shut down a while back. I can only imagine how hard it is to be evil full-time.”

 

“I’m not evil,” Bucky grumbled. “I’m misunderstood.”

 

“Don’t I know it, pal.”

 

Bucky didn’t offer anything else, settling for a tremendous sigh.

 

After a little while, a commotion started up. Bucky watched with intrigue as one of the guys from Espionage Ballerina stumbled down the isle, babbling hysterically.

 

“So many fucking spiders. They’re everywhere.” He stopped by Bucky’s table and looked right at him. “EVERYWHERE!”

 

Bucky was about to nod politely (most of the guys from that game were a little... _off_ ) when he saw a glint of gold.

 

The guy was wearing a beautiful, gleaming medal. In bold letters, it read: HERO.

 

Bucky’s heart started to hammer.

 

“Where’d you get that?” he asked.

 

The guy glanced down, and then appeared to jolt violently. “MOTHERFUCKING SPIDERS!” he shrieked, and continued down the isle.

 

* * *

 

 

It looked like Bucky was going to have a little bit of investigation to do if he was going to prove those sorry bastards wrong.

 

* * *

 

 

“Damn, you guys are out of business?” Bucky pouted. “I loved you guys. Here. I’ve got a few coins.”

 

He placed them into the cup by the sad-looking, tiny, green creatures.

 

“Demiurge!” one squeaked meaningfully.

 

(It was the only word they could say, as far as Bucky knew.)

 

“Good luck.”

 

* * *

 

 

Bucky took a steadying breath before taking the Wire to Espionage Ballerina.

 

* * *

 

 

He had never expected it to be so...

 

So...

 

Well.

 

Scary. 

 

The ambiance was dark, cobwebs glittering across the corridors. Bucky shivered, feeling like someone was watching him.

 

Ever-so quietly in the distance, he heard a, “...two three, one, two three, one...”

 

What the fuck was this game even about?

 

Wasn’t it supposed to be about a spy going undercover as a ballerina?

 

Why did titles have to be so fucking misleading?

 

(He was the Winter Soldier- _goddammit_ \- he shouldn’t be scared of Espionage Fucking Ballerina.)

 

Out of nowhere, something solid and precise slammed into the small of his back, making him lose his balance.

 

Bucky recovered quickly, using the momentum to whirl around.

 

He hardly had time to react before a woman with fiery-red hair was on him.

 

They locked into combat, Bucky needing to use his every advantage as he frantically tried to keep up with the redhead’s calculated assault.

 

“Wait, wait-“ he tried to gasp out, but a boot smacked into his jaw, and the words were lost.

 

They continued to fight until the redhead surprised him, conceding a kick to the ribs in order to take him down.

 

Bucky landed with a decidedly unmanly squawk.

 

“Who the hell are you?” she gritted out, voice a little raspier than Bucky had initially expected.

 

Bucky tried to roll his shoulder, but the redhead jabbed his shoulder blade with something that felt suspiciously like a handgun, so he stopped.

 

“Shit- I- I’m sorry. I’m the Winter Soldier, from Target Practice? I’m trying to get a medal.”

 

“Why?” the redhead said coldly.

 

Bucky was grimacing through the uncomfortable position he’d been wrangled into. “Some assholes bet that I could never be a hero, so I’m going to prove them wrong. A medal labeled ‘HERO’ seemed pretty self-explanatory... So, here I am.”

 

The redhead muttered something under her breath before releasing him all at once. Bucky scrambled to his feet as she eyed him suspiciously. “You’re going to have to _earn_ that medal.”

 

Bucky flushed. “I wasn’t planning on just stealing-“

 

The redhead gave him a look so judgmental that he trailed off.

 

He swallowed. “Well, will you help me out?”

 

The redhead gave him a humorless smile. “Absolutely not.”

 

Bucky’s shoulders slumped, although he couldn’t say he was surprised. “Could you at least tell me what to do?”

 

She considered.

 

Then, “You have to complete some routine dances before you gain authorization to the trophy room.”

 

Bucky breathed a sigh of relief. “Thanks.”

 

Her eyes hardened. “It’s nothing.”

 

He dropped his gaze.

 

“Oh, and one more thing? Don’t touch my fucking spiders.”

 

Bucky looked up sharply to respond, but the redhead was nowhere in sight.

 

“Oh-kay... That was creepy,” Bucky muttered to himself.

 

He marched down the corridor, the counting form before getting progressively louder. When he reached the door it was coming from, an older, severe woman was glaring at him. “You’re late,” she said, words clipped.

 

“Uh- sorry-“

 

“There will be time for that later. Dance. Now.”

 

Bucky looked down as the floor tiles lit up into arrows.

 

He braced himself.

 

Dancing was a thing he could do.

 

Music started up, and he grinned as the jazzy tune overtook him. This was perfect.

 

His feet flew over the tiles as the arrows lit up, arms swinging with each movement. The instructor gave a stern reprimand every now and then if he happened to mess up, but Bucky thought he was doing a pretty damn good job.

 

When the song faded out, he stood, sweaty and grinning, in front of the woman.

 

She gave him a once-over, followed by a single, sharp nod.

 

Bucky felt more elated than he had in his entire life.

 

“Report to room 117 for your next evaluation.”

 

When he arrived at the next room, an identical woman stood waiting for him.

 

“Finally,” she snapped. “Dance.”

 

The process went on like this for four dances. When he finished the fourth, he got a chill. Everything was starting to go dark. He looked up, and couldn’t bite down the scream of fear.

 

Massive black widow spiders covered the ceiling in a moving sheet of horror.

 

“Congratulations. You have gained access to the trophy room.”

 

Whimpering, Bucky scrambled into the hallway, only to find even more spiders.

 

He was going to fucking _cry_.

 

Trembling with terror, he stumbled to the trophy room, door flying open in his desperation.

 

The door made contact with the wall, and a single spider was hit as a result.

 

Everything went still.

 

Then, all the spiders seemed to turn towards him at once.

 

Bucky let out a high-pitched scream, sprinting into the room and snatching the first medal he could see as spiders gathered towards him.

 

He continuously screamed as he bolted down the hallway and locked himself in a broom closet.

 

“Okay, okay,” he whispered, half-crazed. “Okay.”

 

He could hear the spiders building behind the door.

 

He was going to _die_ in here.

 

Stumbling back a bit, Bucky jostled into a shelf and something clattered to the floor.

 

A light blinked on a little device, and a new sound greeted him. “Location request, sir?” a posh voice prompted gently.

 

Bucky picked up the device and squeaked, “Anywhere but here.”

 

“Very well, sir.”

 

The door creaked and splintered, and the spiders started to stream through. “HOLY FUCK!” Bucky screamed.

 

A spider climbed onto his leg, clinging to his skin, before he started to feel a sense of vertigo.

 

“Transportation in process, sir.”

 

Bucky blinked.

 

Suddenly, he was flying through the air, colors streaking past indiscernibly.

 

This lasted for only a moment before he started to plummet.

 

Bucky imagined that he was just falling from the train again, squeezing his eyes shut.

 

Instead of a snow bank, he landed in a pile of mud.

 

Bucky stared up at the sky.

 

“Holy fucking shit,” a voice said, and Bucky struggled to prop himself into a sitting position.

 

A guy was sitting on a tree branch, looking like the cat that caught the canary, twirling the medal around his fingers as he stared at Bucky.

 

Bucky stared back.

 

The guy’s hair matched the color of sunshine and happiness. His leather jacket hugged broad shoulders and his jeans hugged slender, muscular legs.

 

He was fucking beautiful.

 

Bucky blinked at him.

 

The guy started to laugh. “What did you even do?”

 

Bucky glanced down, remembering the spiders in a flash. He felt sick. “Um.”

 

“This is actually the greatest thing that’s ever happened to me. Can I call you Shitface? You know, ‘cause you’re literally lying in a pile of shit. And it’s all over your face.”

 

Bucky scowled. “Laugh all you want. I’m just here for that medal.” He held out his hand insistently.

 

The guy’s mouth (nice) pulled into a wry twist. “Yeah, that’s not gonna happen.”

 

Bucky honestly had not been expecting that answer. “Ex _cuse_ me?”

 

“It’s mine now. I need it more than you.”

 

“Okay, that is definitely not true.”

 

The guy’s bemused look instantly shuttered into a glare. “You wanna bet, Shitface?”

 

“Yeah, I do,” he said stubbornly. “That medal is my literal ticket to happiness.”

 

The guy rolled his eyes. “I think you’re overstating things.”

 

“Am not.”

 

“Are too.”

 

“Am _not_.”

 

“Are _too_.”

 

Bucky made a frustrated noise. “If you don’t give it to me, I’ll have to resort to force.”

 

The guy scoffed. “Says the man fifteen feet under me.”

 

Bucky held up his metal arm pointedly. “Give me the medal.”

 

The guy jutted his chin out, showing off the sharpest jawline Bucky had ever seen. “No.”

 

Bucky gritted his teeth. “ _Fine_.”

 

“Why don’t you go harass somebody else?” the guy said flippantly as Bucky started climbing the tree.

 

“Because they don’t have my goddamned medal,” Bucky growled, halfway there.

 

The guy made a vague humming noise, a challenging glint to his eyes.

 

Bucky lunged for him but was greeted with only static.

 

“Wha-“

 

The guy was standing at the base of the tree and mud pile, flipping the medal leisurely. “That was almost too easy,” he said, grinning, before strolling off.

 

Bucky gaped after him, shocked.

 

What the fuck had just happened?

 

And as if things couldn’t get any worse, when Bucky used his vantage point to look around, he saw the title of the game he was in.

 

Ripped Racers.

 

“A RACING GAME?! YOU’VE GOTTA BE FUCKING KIDDING ME!”

  

* * *

 

 

 

Meanwhile, a spider burrowed lower and lower into the mud.

 

* * *

 

 

 

Bucky followed the noise of all the commotion to what looked to be a race’s starting line.

 

He was just in time to see that fucking guy toss his medal into some sort of sacrificial-looking cup.

 

A man glared at him.

 

“Steve,” he said sternly.

 

The guy- Steve- squared his shoulders.

 

“What exactly are you trying to prove.”

 

“Nothing, sir.”

 

The man raised an eyebrow.

 

“I can be a racer,” Steve said defensively.

 

The man looked like he was about to argue when someone else jumped in.

 

“Ah, it doesn’t matter. The coin’s in anyway, so he’ll have to race, and we can just teach him his lesson then, right, Chancellor Pierce?”

 

Steve glared at the new participant to the conversation.

 

“Nobody asked you, Rumlow,” he snarled.

 

Pierce held up a hand. “That’s enough. Rogers will compete. He’ll just be regretting it in the morning.”

 

With that said, Pierce faced the audience. “Ladies and Gentlemen... YOUR CONTESTANTS FOR TONIGHT’S RACE!”

 

He made a sweeping gesture to a screen that displayed fifteen names, including a STEVEN ROGERS in the last placeholder.

 

Bucky looked at the guy. Steve’s face was set in smug satisfaction as he read his name several times. Bucky’s hands curled into fists.

 

That had been _his_ fucking medal.

 

* * *

 

 

Bucky intercepted Steve after the ceremony had ended.

 

Steve stood, frozen in surprise, staring down at Bucky’s livid stance.

 

“So... I gather you saw me throw your medal into a cup?”

 

“That was mine.” To Bucky’s absolute horror, his voice had cracked at the end. He resisted the urge to cringe.

 

Steve winced, uncomfortable. “Look- ah- I know you probably hate me for it, but I swear it was for a good cause.”

 

Bucky’s eye twitched. “You mean it was for a fucking race?”

 

“No,” Steve said pointedly. “That is not just a race, my friend. That race determines who’s on the roster for racing tomorrow.”

 

“So?” Bucky snapped.

 

“ _So_ ,” Steve said, “if I win, I’ll get to race.”

 

“Whoop-dee-doo. You live in a racing game. It’s not all that special.”

 

Steve crossed his arms angrily. “Well then, by all means, what chivalrous activity were you going to use the medal for?”

 

Bucky’s face darkened.

 

Steve narrowed his eyes. “What? I must be a level four friend to unlock your tragic backstory?”

 

Bucky turned and started to stalk off. “Whatever. Enjoy your stupid-ass motorcycles.”

 

And he would’ve just gone and left if it hadn’t been for those assholes.

 

“Heyyyyy, Tinkerbelle!” somebody called.

 

Bucky automatically tensed, turning around to see a little gang of guys smirking at Steve.

 

Steve crossed his arms. “What do you want?”

 

The leader of the group- Bucky thought his name was Rumlow- gave a little sneer. “We’re just here to congratulate you on getting into the race.”

 

“Yeah,” another one added, “It’s not like you could’ve gotten in on talent.”

 

Steve gritted his teeth. “Say that again.”

 

“You’re a loser, Rogers. No- you’re worse than a loser. You’re a fucking gli-“

 

Bucky blinked at the place where Steve had been, realizing belatedly that he had somehow gotten to be right in front of the guys. Bucky had missed the first punch, but by the time he had turned fully, a fight was going.

 

And in Bucky’s defense, those guys were complete assholes and it was four-against-one. He couldn’t let those odds stand, even if Steve was built like a tank.

 

Bucky found himself yanking Rumlow away from the fight.

 

“Suck on this, asshat,” he spat, before punching him with his metal arm.

 

Rumlow fumbled for a minute, and Bucky took his advantage, hitting him hard enough to knock him out.

 

When he turned back to Steve, he panicked, grabbing his elbow. “COME ON!”

 

Steve, for his part, only struggled a little bit. But as he saw the guys’ livid faces, he started running even faster than Bucky.

 

“Shit- This way!” Steve said, guiding their path through the brown terrain.

 

“What the fuck? THIS IS A DEAD END!”

 

“JUST TRUST ME!”

 

They barreled towards a painful-looking mountain, and Bucky could hear the sounds of pursuit not-too-far-off. He started to panic.

 

“I swear to god, if you get us killed, I’m going to be EVEN MORE PISSED.”

 

Steve shot him a glance. “I _won’t_.”

 

Bucky braced himself as they headed straight for the fucking mountain.

 

This was the worst idea _ever_.

 

Bucky regretted all life decisions that had led up to this point.

 

Every. Single. One.

 

“Come _on_ ,” Steve said, grabbing Bucky by the arm and hauling him more quickly towards the mountain.

 

Bucky squeezed his eyes shut in preparation for impact.

 

But... nothing came.

 

Instead, he felt the air thicken and dampen. He opened his eyes and made a squeaking noise.

 

They were in a massive cave with a literal pit of lava. The mountain hadn’t been a mountain at all. It was a fucking volcano.

 

“Neat, isn’t it?” Steve said, not even out of breath. “I found it a couple years back. Some error in the coding makes that spot in the volcano not really there. Cool, huh?”

 

Bucky shook his head in wonder. “You could’ve given me a little warning.”

 

“You wouldn’t have taken it in.”

 

Steve’s hand was still on Bucky’s arm, the weight warm and pleasant.

 

Suddenly, Bucky scowled and shook him off, turning to glare at him. “Okay, great. Now, how do I get out of here?”

 

Steve looked surprised. “Uh, you won’t be able to leave the volcano for a little while if Rumlow’s after you.”

 

“Great,” Bucky muttered sarcastically. “That means I’m _stuck_ here with you.”

 

Steve gave him an incredulous look. “Are you really still pissed about the whole medal thing?”

 

“You have no idea what I went through to get that.”

 

Crossing his arms, Steve sighed. “Well, guess what? The winner of the race tonight actually gets all of the coins as a part of his or her winnings.”

 

Bucky straightened a little. “We can get it back?”

 

“Who said anything about a ‘we’?”

 

Glaring, Bucky said, “You stole it in the first place, punk.”

 

“In all fairness, I was planning on giving it back after I won, but then you turned out to be a huge jerk.”

 

“Yeah, I don’t care. You’re winning the race, and I’m getting my damn medal back.”

 

Steve brightened considerably. “All right. We can do that. Except, there is _one_ problem.”

 

Bucky stared, unimpressed.

 

Steve gestured somewhere behind him, and Bucky followed his gaze to the most beat-up motorcycle he had ever seen. “It’s broken.”

 

Bucky thought for a moment. “I mean... I’ve been programmed with the basic knowledge of a mechanic, since I have to fix my arm when it starts acting up. So, I guess I could take a look at it.”

 

Steve grinned.

 

After a moment of inspection, Bucky sat back and cursed. “Holy fuck, how long has this been broken?”

 

Steve had the decency to look sheepish. “Uh. Since I’ve had it.”

 

Bucky twisted around, staring at him.

 

Steve fidgeted.

 

Bucky finally gave a sigh and turned back around. “So, it’s a bit of a fixer-upper,” he said with false cheer.

 

Steve kicked at a rock. “I never caught your name.”

 

“Huh?”

 

“What’s your name? Unless you want me to be calling you ‘Shitface’ forever.”

 

Bucky glared at the motorcycle as he replied, “Alias: the Winter Soldier. Given name: Bucky Barnes.”

 

Steve snorted. “The fuck kind of name is _Bucky_?”

 

“My name, you fucking punk.”

 

Steve held up his hands defensively. “Right, okay, seems legit.”

 

Bucky paused and twisted around. “Look, if we’re going to be working together tonight, you’re going to need to cool it.”

 

“What do you mean? You’re the one who started it.”

 

“ _No_. You started it when you _stole_ my fucking medal.”

 

Steve stared at him blankly. “I said I was going to give it back.”

 

Bucky sighed. “This is going to be a long night, isn’t it?”

  

* * *

 

 

 

Natasha was losing her mind.

 

“Two thousand three hundred and twenty-six, two thousand three hundred and twenty-seven...”

 

Her spiders stared back at her in confusion.

 

Natasha gave a frustrated noise. “Where the hell is two thousand three hundred and twenty-eight?”

 

The spiders didn’t offer a response.

 

“This is ridiculous,” Natasha muttered. “Ridiculous!”

 

“What’s ridicu- HOLY SHIT!” came a new voice.

 

Natasha turned around, glaring at the newcomer: a blonde man in a sleeveless suit, bow and arrow held aloft as he stared at her spiders.

 

“Put the weapon down,” Natasha snapped. “They won’t hurt you unless I want them to.”

 

The man swallowed roughly and lowered his bow slowly.

 

“State your name and business here.”

 

The man straightened. “I’m uh- Hawkeye from Target Practice. I mean, you can call me Clint- that is- unless you don’t want to- I mean-“

 

“Go on.”

 

Clint dragged a hand through his hair, taking a deep breath. “Word around Game Central Station is that the Winter Soldier came here?”

 

“Why do you need to know?” Natasha asked coldly.

 

“He’s my villain, and he totally disappeared on us- I don’t know- the soldiers were being mean to him or something. If he isn’t back in the morning, things are going to get really, really bad. What would a game be without its villain? A broken one. We’ll be shut down.”

 

Natasha frowned, thinking things over. “He was here,” she finally conceded.

 

Clint perked up. The hesitant smile looked good on him.

 

“However, he isn’t here anymore. And I think he took one of my spiders with him.”

 

“Aww, come _on_.”

 

Natasha glared at him. “I think you’re misinterpreting the gravity of the situation.”

 

“Trust me, I know exactly what’s at stake.”

 

“Do you?” Natasha pressed. “If my spider weaves itself into the code of whatever game the Winter Soldier ran off to, it could ruin everything.”

 

Clint was quiet for a second. “Are you trying to say that we have a potential Hydra on our hands?”

 

Natasha shuddered slightly at the word. “I’m saying we better not.”

 

Clint rubbed a hand across his stubbly jaw. “Okay. Okay. This is... We could...”

 

Natasha sighed, walking forward and grabbing Clint’s wrist as she passed, yanking him along. Clint squeaked. “Come on. We’re going to Game Central.”

 

“Uh???” Clint squawked, apparently still incapacitated when it came to speaking.

 

Natasha rolled her eyes. “Espionage, Hawkeye. It’s my job.”

 

“...Right.”

 

As they reached the Wire, Natasha turned to him, releasing his wrist. “You know how serious this is, right?”

 

“Yes, ma’am.”

 

“A sensitive operation.”

 

“Of course.”

 

“Of utmost importance.”

 

“Noted.”

 

“Requiring the maximum responsibility.”

 

“Understood.”

 

Natasha sighed, somewhat satisfied.

 

“What’s your name?”

 

Natasha threw a smirk at him. “Ask me no questions and I’ll tell you no lies.”

 

“Wow. Cloak and dagger, much?”

 

Huffing a laugh, she amended, “I’m Natasha.”

 

“I’m Clint.”

 

“I know.”

 

Clint grinned crookedly, and Natasha’s heart fluttered oddly.

 

This was going to be a long night.

 

* * *

 

 

“I am dead. This bike has killed me.”

 

“Bucky-“

 

“Steve, no, you do not understand. This bike has _killed me_.”

 

Steve dragged his fingers through his hair. “You are exaggerating.”

 

“I am _not_ ,” Bucky whined.

 

“You are.”

 

Bucky rolled onto his back, raising his arms to the ceiling. “Just look at me. I’m the greasiest man alive. I bet I have grease in my hair. And I think I electrocuted myself at least... three times.”

 

“Fucking hell,” Steve despaired.

 

“This is all your fault.”

 

“How the hell is this my fault?”

 

“It’s your damn bike!”

 

Steve gave a frustrated noise. “Just, please tell me it at least works.” He rubbed at his temples, as if _Bucky_ was the exhausting one.

 

Bucky sighed. “If it doesn’t, then all hope is lost.”

 

“Oh my god, you need to be stopped.”

 

“I need to be supported.”

 

“You’re such a fucking jerk-faced asshole.”

 

Bucky scowled, propping himself up on an elbow. “Say that when your motorcycle carries you off into glory.”

 

“Jesus Christ- I’m not doing this for glory.”

 

“Semantics. Try the damn bike.”

 

“‘ _Try the damn bike_ ,’” Steve mimicked in an overly high-pitched voice.

 

Bucky opened his mouth to snap something equally witty and stinging, but Steve approached the motorcycle and tentatively sat on its seat, staring at the handles.

 

“The fuck are you-“

 

“Bucky? I don’t know how to ride a motorcycle.”

 

The silence was deafening for a dreadful moment.

 

Then, “Are you fucking kidding me?”

 

“Look it’s not my-“

 

“Steve, if you were about to say that it’s not your fault, I am going to kick your ass so hard.”

 

Steve scowled, crossing his arms. “Well, do you know how?”

 

“How the fuck would I know how to ride a motorcycle?”

 

Steve gestured wildly to his general direction. “I don’t know! You emanate that sort of ‘bad-boy’ persona.”

 

Bucky glared. “I do not. I very clearly emanate ‘punk.’”

 

“It’s literally the same thing.”

 

“It is literally not the same thing.”

 

Steve threw his hands up. “Are you gonna help me or not?” he demanded.

 

“I have never ridden a motorcycle in my life,” Bucky said incredulously.

 

“Same. First time for everything, right?”

 

“Don’t you think you should’ve told me this before I fucking fixed it?”

 

“Okay, technically, we don’t even know if it’s fixed yet.”

 

Bucky pinched the bridge of his nose. “This is the worst night of my entire life.”

 

“I’m sure that’s not true. We’re having fun, right?” And then Steve made a horrifyingly goofy beaming face.

 

Bucky wrinkled his nose, and Steve’s face went back to normal. “I regret all the things.”

 

Steve frowned and went back to hesitantly examining the motorcycle.

 

Bucky sighed. “Here, let me try.”

 

Steve gave him the bitterest, most sassy look he had ever seen. “Thought you said you didn’t have any experience either?”

 

Bucky rolled his eyes. “Yeah, but at least I was smart enough to fix it.”

 

“We don’t even know if it’s-“

 

“Shut the fuck up and let me have my moment.”

 

Steve gestured to the motorcycle’s handles. “By all means.”

 

Grumbling irritably to himself, Bucky approached the motorcycle, trying to ignore the warmth emanating from Steve’s body right next to him.

 

“Well, obviously, this means go.” Bucky gestured to a vague part of the handles.

 

Steve raised an eyebrow with such an unimpressed look that Bucky was forced to indignantly cross his arms.

 

“You’re kidding, right?”

 

“No,” Bucky said.

 

Steve blew out an exasperated puff of air, turning back to the handles. “Well, trial and error never hurt anybody.”

 

Bucky scoffed. “Famous last words,” he mumbled, grinning at the rocky ground.

 

“I will _fight_ you,” Steve said without looking at him.

 

“You can try. I mean, I’m a trained soldier with an actual metal arm. And you’re-“

 

Steve turned to him, nostrils flaring, as he levelly repeated, “ _I will fight you_.”

 

Bucky held up his hands, backing off.

 

A moment later, Steve had both hands tentatively placed on the handles.

 

Bucky smirked. “I bet you won’t be able to do it.”

 

Steve glared at him. “Watch me.”

 

And then Steve immediately twisted one of the handles, sending him rocketing forward. “OH, SHIT!” he yelled. The bike reared and he fell on his ass.

 

Bucky collapsed into laughter as Steve righted himself and the motorcycle. Steve’s jaw was set in the most stubborn determination that Bucky had ever seen.

 

“Let’s fucking do this,” Steve muttered.

 

Bucky tried not to rub at his temples too obviously.

  

* * *

 

 

 

Steve sped around a corner too fast and crashed to the ground.

 

Bucky’s heart seized in his chest. “Oh my god, please don’t be dead,” he begged, worried more about the potential loss of the medal than the potential injuries of the man as he scurried over to Steve’s side.

 

Steve pushed himself up onto scuffed elbows, blinking in disorientation. “Ouch,” he mumbled.

 

“Are you okay?” Bucky asked, hovering anxiously.

 

Steve smirked a little. “Aw, shucks. I didn’t know you cared, Buck.”

 

Bucky scowled. “I don’t. This is a strictly business relationship, Rogers.”

 

(Even if his eyelashes were starting to become a serious problem to Bucky’s ability to focus.)

 

Steve chuckled. “I’m sure you’re right.”

 

Five minutes later, Steve crashed to the ground again because he accidentally sped up too fast. “For crying out loud!” Bucky exclaimed, throwing his arms out. “You can’t last a damn minute without hurting yourself. Are you all right? Should I be concerned about your health? Does this have more to do with you being a clumsy ass or just a reckless punk?”

 

Steve winced. “Both, I guess?”

 

Bucky grumbled to himself in supreme discontent.

 

After that, Steve completed his first full successful loop around the lava pit and threw up his arms to pump his fists in the air.

 

In doing so, he let go of the handles while the bike was still running and almost swerved into the lava.

 

“FUCKING HELL!” Bucky shrieked. “You’re going to give me a heart attack. Oh my god, I think I can physically feel my hair starting to turn gray. The fuck is the matter with you? Can you go five minutes without endangering yourself?”

 

Steve snorted and gave a curiously sad smile. “I don’t think so. Sorry.”

 

“Jesus Christ. What have I done to deserve this?” Bucky asked the sky.

 

“You’re cute when you’re mother-henning,” Steve said cheekily.

 

Bucky glared hotly at him. “This is not because I care about your wellbeing, just so we’re clear. I’m only here because you’re my only access to getting my medal back.”

 

Steve’s eyes twinkled when he replied. “I’m sure we both know that isn’t true anymore.”

 

Bucky shook his head. “Nope.”

 

“Come on,” Steve teased. “Admit it. You’re enjoying yourself.”

 

“I’d be enjoying myself more if you didn’t have such a persistent death wish,” Bucky grumbled. “Get back to work.”

 

“Aye-aye, Captain!” Steve said with a stiff salute, turning back to his motorcycle.

 

When he wasn’t looking, Bucky let the smile he’d been holding back quirk across his lips.

 

* * *

 

 

A few hours later and... Bucky was able to admit that he _was_ actually enjoying himself.

 

As Steve had actually started to figure out how to ride a motorcycle, he’d been more prone to laughing at his (decidedly less disastrous) mistakes, looking at Bucky with a gorgeous twinkle in his eyes whenever he did something stupid, which was far too often for Bucky’s headache to fully subside. Their hostile jibes had completely melted into a teasing, comfortable banter once the medal started to fade from Bucky’s thoughts and Steve Rogers took the stage of his mind’s eye.

 

“I’m gonna do it.”

 

“Don’t do it.”

 

Steve stared stubbornly ahead. “I am going to do it.”

 

“Do not do it,” Bucky pleaded.

 

Steve grinned and revved his engine before speeding forward, driving onto the abandoned racecourse conveniently located within the cave, which looked, by the way, _highly fucking dangerous_.

 

The track was unfinished in places, including a brief spot while you were supposed to be over the literal fucking lava pit.

 

And Steve, the asshole, had decided that he wanted to try it.

 

He was going to give Bucky an aneurism.

 

Bucky watched in horror as Steve accelerated on the rickety pathway, his form steadily inclining towards the top of the volcano’s interior.

 

Steve was going to _die_.

 

“Oh my god,” Bucky whimpered, “You’re going to _die_.”

 

Bucky made frantic squawking noises as Steve actually managed to get halfway through the course without plummeting to his death, his laughs echoing throughout the cave.

 

But then Steve was leaning forward to accelerate, preparing to bridge the gap of the track left over the lava pit.

 

Bucky decided that morbid fascination was the only reason he furiously stared at Steve as the motorcycle went airborne.

 

God, he wasn’t going to make it.

 

Before the thought could properly manifest, Steve’s whole body fizzed into static. Bucky shrieked, blinking as the static reappeared about ten feet higher and Steve was suddenly there, meaning he reached the other side of the gap with ease, whooping delightedly.

 

Bucky’s thoughts flashed back to the tree, and to the fight, and realized that this wasn’t the first time he’d seen Steve teleport in static or whatever the fuck had just happened.

 

Steve skidded to a halt in front of him, grinning smugly at Bucky’s slack-jawed shock.

 

“Not too bad for a rookie, huh?”

 

“Steve,” Bucky whispered frantically, “ _Steve_ , Stevie. You just. You- you- you fucking-“

 

Steve’s expression crumpled into wariness so fast that Bucky felt vertigo.

 

“You fucking teleported. What the fuck-“

 

“Bucky,” Steve said calmly, “You need to calm down.”

 

“BUT! YOU TELEPORTED!” Bucky screeched.

 

“Yeah. I did. It’s not a big fucking deal.”

 

“It’s- it’s a HUGE deal! Oh my _god_ , that is so _cool_!”

 

Steve opened his mouth, looking almost furious, when he faltered, actually seeming to register Bucky’s words. “I- what?”

 

Bucky grabbed Steve by the shoulders, grinning. “Do you even realize how great that is? Oh my god, you almost died, but you didn’t, because you can fucking teleport!”

 

Steve blinked, confused. “Erm. I can safely say that this is the weirdest reaction I have ever gotten.”

 

Bucky tipped his head back and laughed. “But Steve. Think of the possibilities. You can teleport in front of all the other racers. You can save your reckless ass from certain death. Oh my god.”

 

Steve had this look of hesitant hope that Bucky couldn’t quite understand. “You really think it’s a good thing?” He sounded too vulnerable for Bucky’s liking.

 

“A good thing? It’s a great thing! God, Steve, you’re absolutely amazing.”

 

Steve blushed, ducking his head, and Bucky realized he was still holding his shoulders. He stepped back hastily.

 

“Nobody’s ever thought that way about it before,” Steve murmured, looking at the ground while trying to smother a grin.

 

“Well, everybody else is an idiot,” Bucky decided firmly.

 

Steve looked up, smile falling. “I can only do that because I’m a glitch.”

 

Bucky flinched at the word, startled. “What?”

 

Steve’s cheeks colored, and his body fizzed in static for a second. “I-“

 

“Whoa, Stevie, you okay?”

 

He seemed to compose himself, grabbing the back of his neck. “Yeah, sorry. I’m just... I’m not supposed to be in the game. I’m a mistake in the code. That’s why they all hate me.”

 

Bucky frowned, troubled. “Please,” he said. “You’re anything but a mistake. You’re so-“ Bucky gestured at him vaguely, “You’re so _you_.”

 

Steve shrugged.

 

“Come on. If anyone’s a mistake, it’s me. I’m a villain with a hero complex. That’s why I wanted that medal- to prove that I’m not what the code says.”

 

Steve eyed him. “You’re a villain? I don’t believe that for a second.”

 

Bucky looked at Steve sharply. “You don’t?”

 

Steve smirked. “Like you said, you’ve got a hero complex, Buck. And yeah, you’re grumpy, but you’re still worth ten of any of the other guys in this game.”

 

Bucky bit his lip, glowing and uncomfortable all at once. “Thanks,” he whispered.

 

Steve smiled, a little more softly. “I guess we’re a couple of misfits, huh? A glitch and a villain who was never supposed to be bad.”

 

Bucky laughed, a little bitterly. “I’m glad I found you. Even though you’re a huge fucking jerk.”

 

Steve’s lips quirked, a challenge in his eyes. “Takes one to know one.”

 

When Bucky laughed, it was the best feeling he’d had in a long time.

 

* * *

 

 

Natasha gave her surroundings a distasteful onceover.

 

“Racing games are the lowest of the low,” she grumbled.

 

Clint nodded in her periphery.

 

Natasha glared back down at her spider tracker, slapping it against her palm. The screen just crackled some more, weakly blipping but showing nothing.

 

“Problem?” Clint asked.

 

Sighing, Natasha started forward, not taking her eyes off the screen. “Something’s messing with my tracking frequency. I can’t-“

 

She should’ve known better than to not look where she was going, but suddenly she was falling over a root that had appeared out of nowhere and landing in the dirt.

 

Clint snorted while Natasha glared. “Sorry,” he giggled, hurrying over to Natasha’s side.

 

Natasha started to try and push herself up, eyes widening as she realized what she had fallen into. “Clint, wait!”

 

But it was too late.

 

Clint took another step towards her, sinking rapidly into the ground. “Tasha?” he whispered, sounding breathlessly panicked as he got shorter and shorter.

 

Natasha yanked an arm out of the quicksand and extended it to Clint. “Come on,” she said urgently. “We need to stick together.”

 

“Together,” Clint echoed weakly as their fingers intertwined into a viselike grip.

 

They sank.

 

“What do we do?” Clint asked. “Oh, god, we’re going to die. I can’t do this. I’m too young- I-“

 

Natasha whacked him on the back of the head. “Get ahold of yourself! We’re not going to die!”

 

Clint pursed his lips, apparently out of his funk now that he’d had a bit of cognitive recalibration. His eyes darted around, and Natasha saw him relax incrementally. “I have a plan.”

 

“I’m relieved,” Natasha grumbled dryly as the sand reached her chest.

 

“I’m going to let go for a second- just a second. I won’t leave you here. I promise.”

 

Natasha swallowed roughly, nodding deliberately enough to smother the fact that she was shaking a little bit as she continued to sink.

 

Clint squeezed her hand one last time before letting go and twisting around, lunging for a group of low-hanging vines not too far away.

 

He missed them the first time, only sinking lower. “Fuck,” he whispered, then tried again, even more determined.

 

Natasha held her breath as Clint’s fingers found purchase on a vine. He craned his neck to look at Natasha, who had sunk to her chin. “Grab on.”

 

Natasha struggled with her one exposed arm to wrap securely around Clint’s waist. She tried not to think about how warm he felt.

 

Clint’s biceps stood out in defined strain as he pulled them out of the quicksand until they were lying side-by-side on their backs, panting and sandy and gross, but alive.

 

“This place,” Natasha moaned, “is trying to kill me.” She forced herself to roll onto her side to face Clint.

 

Clint gave an exhilarated laugh, letting his head loll to look at her with starry eyes. “God, may I say that you are one kickass, beautiful woman.”

 

Natasha’s eyes widened as her brain flashed back to every single time she’d heard that phrase.

 

_“Wow, you are one kickass, beautiful woman,” Matt said, smiling softly from across the table._

_“Kickass, beautiful woman,” Matt said from behind a stunning engagement ring._

_“Kickass, beautiful woman,” Matt said at the end of the aisle, before the largest spider she’d ever seen kicked through the glass behind them. She barely even had time to blink before the spider was devouring Matt, his screams ringing in her ears._

 

“NAT! NATASHA! YOU’RE OKAY!” Clint was yelling, shaking her shoulders as she shivered and whimpered on the ground.

 

She blinked rapidly, trying to ground herself in the present under Clint’s worried gaze.

 

“I-“ she began, taking a gulping breath. God, she was mortified. How could she have let herself slip up?

 

“Hey,” Clint whispered gently, “It’s okay. We’re okay. We’re alive. I won’t call you that again.” He sounded equally embarrassed, and Natasha gave an unsteady nod.

 

Clint was still holding her against his chest when the tracking device bleeped.

 

Natasha came back to herself, shoving Clint away and staggering to her feet. She got the device out of her suit and stared at the screen in shock.

 

“Uh, Hawkeye?”

 

“Yep?” Clint grumbled, rising on unsteady legs.

 

“You may want to take a look at this.”

 

She passed him the small device.

 

Clint gave her an unreadable look. “What do we do?”

 

Natasha stared at the screen, where thousands of red dots blinked reassuringly all over the landscape.

 

“You find your villain. I’ll take care of _this_.”

 

* * *

 

 

“You know, you’re getting pretty good at this,” Bucky mused thoughtfully.

 

Steve stood, propping his bike against the nearest rocky wall and brushing dust off of his pants. “You really think so?” he asked dubiously.

 

“I do,” Bucky responded, trying to convey a certain sincerity.

 

(He was so bad at sincerity. One time, he’d complimented one of the soldiers on a particularly fancy shot he’d taken, and the guy had loudly cursed Bucky out for being a completely pretentious, asshole-ish, “higher-than-thou” sniper before actually pushing him off a cliff.)

 

(Bucky would have liked to say that this had been an extraneous situation.)

 

Steve sauntered over to Bucky’s side, a lightness in his step that Bucky hadn’t seen before this moment. “It was actually pretty easy to get the hang of it, I think.”

 

Bucky nudged Steve’s shoulder with his own, looking up at him through his eyelashes. “Some things just come to us instinctually.” He pitched his voice a little lower than normal, almost subconsciously.

 

If Steve caught the vague innuendo, he didn’t show it. Instead, he offered Bucky a hesitant grin. “I can literally feel that I’m a racer. There are some things I just _know_.”

 

“Yeah. I think I get what you mean.”

 

Steve eyed him curiously. “Is that how it feels with the hero thing?” His tone wasn’t spiteful or arrogant, which Bucky was breathlessly appreciative of.

 

Bucky sighed, thinking it over. “Not really... It’s more like I feel as if there are two people in me. The Winter Soldier and Bucky Barnes. Who I should be and who I want to be. I know I was never meant for greatness, but I can’t help but think I could be capable of it. I don’t know if that makes any sense.”

 

Steve shrugged mildly. “I mean, the only thing I’ve ever wanted in my entire life was to be a racer, so I couldn’t tell you if that was a normal sort of feeling.”

 

Bucky gave him a doubtful once-over. “That’s the only thing you’ve ever wanted in your entire life? Really?”

 

Steve blushed. “Well, obviously there are things less grand than that. I guess I don’t want to be alone forever, but that’s never really seemed like an attainable goal.”

 

Frowning, Bucky replied, “Buddy, let me tell you something about that. I’ve been alone my whole damn life because people don’t trust villains and don’t trust me. But you? There’s just something incredibly good about you that people are automatically drawn to, once they disregard how much of a little shit you are. You have no danger of spending your life alone. I promise you that.”

 

Steve was looking at him like he was something strange and magnificent. Bucky squirmed under the attention. “You really think so?” Steve whispered, voice a little faint.

 

Bucky’s cheeks were feeling suspiciously warm. “Yeah, I really think so, Stevie.”

 

During the conversation, they had somehow leant closer to each other so that their heads were bowed together.

 

“Tell you a secret?” Steve murmured, a terrific gleam in his eyes.

 

“What is it?” Bucky asked, lowering his voice to Steve’s volume, caught up in his intoxicatingly contagious mannerisms.

 

Steve leaned even closer. Bucky could feel his breath when he said, “I don’t think you have any danger of spending your life alone either.”

 

“You don’t?” Bucky was properly astounded, and his mouth hung slightly ajar.

 

Steve shook his head a little. “Nope. I don’t know you too well, but from what I do know, I can tell that you’re worth so much. There’s no way nobody will ever catch on to how amazing you are.”

 

Bucky stared at Steve in naked shock.

 

Nobody had ever said anything like that to him before.

 

His eyes subconsciously flickered down to Steve’s lips, and Steve swallowed roughly. Bucky’s gaze tracked the movement of his throat almost hungrily.

 

But just then, Steve’s motorcycle made a curiously mechanical noise, and it was loud enough that they jolted apart, clearing their throats loudly.

 

Blushing furiously from their conversation, Bucky stared persistently at the ground. “I’m going to get some air. I’ll be right back.”

 

“Okay,” Steve said, smiling dumbly from where he was lovingly but worriedly running his fingers over his motorcycle.

 

Bucky stumbled gracelessly from the cave, smiling to himself as he stopped to take a deep breath, leaning against the volcano’s wall.

 

“The Winter Soldier. What a surprise.”

 

Bucky’s head snapped towards the voice, his smile vanishing as he saw that guy- Alexander Pierce- stride calmly into view.

 

“What do you want?” Bucky asked, tensing.

 

Pierce held up his hands, stopping a good distance away. “It’s not what I want. It’s what you want.”

 

Bucky clenched his fists. “What are you talking about?”

 

“I know you want Steven to win the race so that you can win back your medal.”

 

Bucky scowled. “How-“

 

“I know everything that goes on in this game,” Pierce said dismissively.

 

“You don’t know what I want,” Bucky stubbornly insisted.

 

Pierce lifted an eyebrow. “Oh?” Bucky’s stomach plummeted at his tone. “I know that you’re a villain, mocked by everyone in your game, who feels like you’re made for more than falling off a damn train. I know that you earned that hero medal, and that Steven took it from you. I know that his winning is your only hope of being accepted by your peers.” Pierce leaned forward, smiling humorlessly. “And the best part? I know that you’ve actually come to care for Steven after everything.”

 

Bucky took a steadying breath through gritted teeth. “How?”

 

“I have ears everywhere.”

 

“What does this have to do with anything?”

 

“Mr. Barnes, it has to do with everything. I’m trying to help you.” He had the audacity to sound sickeningly sincere.

 

“I don’t understand.”

 

Pierce sighed, as if troubled. “You must know by now that Steven in a glitch. A blip in the code, like a genetic deficiency in the game.”

 

Bucky’s metal arm whirred as the plates shifted to clench into a fist.

 

“I’m trying my best to protect him, you must understand,” Pierce said.

 

Bucky scoffed. “Somehow, I find that hard to believe.”

 

Pierce shook his head sadly. “If Steven ever crosses the finish line of that race, the game will fall apart. See, since he was never meant to be here in the first place, he glitches. If he scores a place on tomorrow’s roster, the children in the arcade will notice something is wrong when racing as him. They’ll point it out to the manager, and he’ll think something is wrong with the game. We’ll go out of business and he’ll pull the plug, leaving us all jobless and homeless.”

 

Bucky shook his head desperately. “That’s not-“

 

“That’s not even the worst part,” Pierce cut in smoothly. “Steven, the poor glitch, will be unable to leave the game. So, as the code for everything else unravels, he will too. He’ll be abandoned, trapped, and lost forever in a vanished game, and it will all be your fault. Because you were too selfish to let that medal go and too selfish to let Steven’s dream be crushed.”

 

Bucky leaned heavily against the volcano, feeling suddenly dizzy. “I can stop this,” he whispered. “I can fix this.”

 

Pierce smiled, and Bucky was reminded of monsters with curling grins and sharp, pristine teeth. “You can. All you need to do is what you do best. Be the bad guy.”

 

Bucky opened his mouth. “What?”

 

“Destroy his motorcycle. That way, he can’t race. He can’t put the game and himself in danger.”

 

“But-“

 

“I know you’ll do the right thing, Mr. Barnes, but I’ll still sweeten the deal,” Pierce said. He reached into his coat pocket and his hand emerged holding his medal.

 

Bucky’s jaw dropped. “How did you-?”

 

“I’m the Chancellor. I can do anything I want,” Pierce told him, offering the medal. “It’s yours to take. You can destroy the bike, go home, and forget about Steven while your peers finally accept you. Isn’t that what you wanted?”

 

Bucky took the medal with trembling fingers, and stared down at the gleaming surface in silence.

 

Pierce shifted awkwardly. “I do wish there was another way,” he said quietly. “You understand. He forced my hand with his stubborn dream.”

 

Bucky looked up. “And if I don’t do it?”

 

Pierce looked grim. “Then you best hope he just doesn’t complete the race.”

 

Swallowing thickly, Bucky gave the medal another look. “I-“

 

But Pierce was gone as quickly as he’d come.

 

After several tense moments, Bucky slipped the medal on and hid it under his uniform’s collar. He turned to the cave and squared his shoulders, dreading the future that stretched mercilessly before him.

 

* * *

 

 

What the fuck does one do to contact a king?

 

Clint had no idea. He stared at the palace gates in discomfort.

 

Should he knock? Would anyone even hear it?

 

He was too old for this shit.

 

When he tentatively wrapped his knuckles against the gigantic door, someone immediately opened it: a blonde woman with a sharp, insincere smile that looked strained around the edges. “How may I be of assistance?” she asked, words clipped and professional.

 

“Um. I’m Hawkeye from... Target Practice. I think my villain’s sort of gone rouge here. Has anyone seen the Winter Soldier?”

 

The woman’s face shuttered. “I think you better come with me, Mr. Barton.”

 

Warily, Clint followed her into the palace, the woman’s heels clicking on the linoleum. Over her shoulder, she called, “I’m Sharon Carter, racer and right hand to the Chancellor. And here at the palace, everyone has been abuzz about Mr. Barnes.”

 

Clint’s stomach sank. “What did he do this time?”

 

Sharon abruptly turned around, smiling tightly with her hands clasped behind her back. “He’s aiding a glitch. And although the glitch seems harmless enough, it still poses a grave threat to the game’s integrity. You realize how serious this is, Mr. Barton.”

 

Clint looked at her blankly. “Bucky would never deliberately sabotage a game.”

 

Sharon sighed tiredly. “The glitch is _very_ manipulative. It knows what it’s doing.”

 

“You don’t believe that whole stigma, do you?” Clint asked incredulously. He’d met a glitch once. Billy Kaplan had been super nice, if not a little angsty.

 

Sharon pursed her lips. “It’s really not about what I believe. It’s about the Chancellor’s order. Now, Mr. Barton, are you going to be a problem for us?”

 

“That depends. What are you planning on doing to Bucky and this glitch?”

 

“That is none of your concern,” Sharon said, an edge coming into her voice.

 

“To hell it is! Bucky’s my villain and my friend. It’s definitely my concern.”

 

Sharon pinched the bridge of her nose. “Well, if you’re so keen to know, then we’ll be giving him a slightly more intense punishment than you.”

 

Clint faltered. “I- what?”

 

Before he could react or get any answers, Sharon calmly reached out and pressed a button on the wall that he hadn’t noticed before.

 

The floor opened beneath him, and his stomach fell out from under him as he was swallowed by darkness.

 

“I’m really sorry about this, Mr. Barton!” echoed down the tunnel after him.

 

* * *

 

 

Steve came out of the volcano, towing his motorcycle beside him as he grinned at Bucky. “Hey, sorry about that, I was just getting something.”

 

Bucky chewed at the tip of his thumb. “No problem, Steve. I don’t mind.”

 

“Actually,” Steve continued, looking down as a flush came over his cheeks, “I wanted to give you something before we head to the race.”

 

Bucky’s face twisted into a grimace. “No, Stevie, you don’t have to do that.”

 

“No, I do, Buck,” he said quietly, reaching into his pocket. “See, I know we’re gonna win and all, but I also know how important that medal is to you. So, _just in case_ we don’t win, I made you a little something.” His cheeks colored even more. “I didn’t have a lot of time, so it’s not that good, but I thought you may like it.”

 

With that said, Steve pulled something out of his pocket and strode straight to Bucky until their chests were nearly touching. Bucky’s breath died in his throat as he looked up into the gorgeous blue of Steve’s eyes.

 

Steve slipped something over his head, never breaking eye contact. “I-“ he said, and Bucky quickly looked down at what Steve had given him.

 

It was a crudely yet carefully constructed medal that had the words “MY HERO” neatly printed on it. Bucky felt the tears bead in his eyes.

 

“Steve,” he choked out.

 

Steve touched his cheek, almost absentmindedly. “It’s just supposed to mean that... All those guys in your game-? They can go fuck themselves. Bucky, you’re _my_ hero, and that’s what matters in the end, right?”

 

Bucky shook his head a little bit. “This is all wrong.”

 

Steve flinched back, as if slapped. “You don’t like it?”

 

“God, no. This is the best thing I’ve ever gotten in my damn life. I-“

 

“I’m glad,” Steve said reproachfully, taking a hesitant step back.

 

Bucky watched in dread as Steve made his way to his motorcycle. “Come on. We should get going, Buck.”

 

“Maybe we shouldn’t, though?” Bucky hedged.

 

Steve gave him an unimpressed eyebrow raise. “Very funny. Come on.”

 

“I’m serious,” Bucky protested. “Maybe- maybe you were never actually meant to race.”

 

“That’s ridiculous,” Steve snapped.

 

“It’s not. You were never meant for it the same way I was never meant to be a hero.”

 

“That’s enough! I know I’m a racer. I can feel it in my fucking code, no matter how screwed up it is. I don’t need you or anyone else telling me who I am,” Steve exploded, posture tensing.

 

“Steve, that’s not what I meant,” Bucky said desperately. “Look, I talked to Pierce, and he said-“

 

“PIERCE?” Steve demanded furiously.

 

“YES, PIERCE! He fucking said you’d _die_ if you cross that finish line, Steve, and I won’t let that happen!”

 

Steve threw out his arms. “PIERCE IS A FUCKING LIAR!”

 

“I CAN’T TAKE THAT RISK!” Bucky shouted. “You mean too much to me for that.”

 

Steve grabbed the handles of his bike. “Well, you’ll just have to stop me, then. I’m going to that race, Bucky, whether I have you at my back or not.”

 

“You’re not going to that race,” Bucky said lowly, advancing on the motorcycle.

 

Steve’s eyes went wide.

 

Bucky raised his metal fist, jaw set-

 

“Bucky, what are you doing?”

 

-and he slammed it down on the bike’s handles, crushing the material.

 

“STOP!” Steve said hoarsely, lunging for him, and he was big, but he wasn’t trained for combat the way Bucky was. Bucky pushed him away, and slammed his fist down again. “STOP IT! PLEASE!”

 

But Bucky was on a roll, and he hit and hit and hit until the bike was in worse shape than he’d found it in the first place.

 

When he finally stopped, breathing heavily, he turned to see Steve, eyes red-rimmed as he watched him.

 

“I guess I was wrong about you,” he whispered, voice breaking. “You really are a bad guy.”

 

Bucky’s heart cracked and shattered as Steve pushed himself to his feet and fled back into the volcano.

 

Bucky sat next to the remains of the motorcycle and wished his life was anything but this.

 

* * *

 

 

He wasn’t too surprised when Pierce came for him.

 

And he wouldn’t say he wasn’t necessarily unsurprised when Pierce slapped handcuffs on his wrists, but he didn’t care too much.

 

Pierce dragged him by the collar to a little vehicle that, surprisingly, was not a motorcycle, and hit him on the head.

 

Bucky woke up in a dark prison cell, shackled to the wall.

 

He groaned. His head hurt like shit.

 

(His heart felt worse, though.)

 

“Bucky? Are you there?” he heard through the walls.

 

“Whuuuu?” Bucky slurred, apparently a lot more woozy than he felt.

 

“Oh, THANK GOD!” came Clint’s voice. “Are you here to rescue me?”

 

“Um,” Bucky said, blinking rapidly, “That depends. I kinda have to rescue myself first.”

 

There was a pause, then a soft, “Fuck.”

 

“I know. Look, Clint, I’m sorry. I went out tonight and I thought I could prove to you guys that I was a hero, but I’m not. I’m not even a good guy.”

 

“Hey, come on, man, that’s not true,” Clint protested. “You’re the best friend I’ve ever had.”

 

“Really?”

 

“Really. I know I don’t really show it all the time, but you’re my bro. I’m sorry I let the soldiers’ opinions get in the way of that. I should’ve been there for you.”

 

Bucky was feeling very emotional all of a sudden. “Aw, Clint. You don’t have to abandon the soldiers for me. All I ever wanted was at least one friend who didn’t think of me as the villain.”

 

He could hear the smile in Clint’s voice when he replied. “Yeah, well I just see you as a pain in my ass.”

 

Bucky chuckled. “If we get out of this, I’m buying you a beer, and we’re gonna get really drunk and yell at Bruce a lot.”

 

“I’d like that,” Clint said quietly. “Bucky, do you think-“

 

He was cut off when the door to Bucky’s cell opened and a short man with thick, circular glasses stepped into the room, eying Bucky critically. A terrible feeling went to his gut at the sight of the man’s piggish features.

 

“Mr. Barnes, my name is Doctor Arnim Zola, and I’m going to be investigating your code.” His voice was nasally and gave Bucky the impression of a loose bolt on a train dragging against the tracks.

 

“Why would you do that?” Bucky asked, trying to hide his inexplicable fear.

 

Zola smiled, and the look sent Bucky’s nerves on edge. “Your powerful tendency towards heroism is fascinating. It is possible the code made a mistake in your psyche, and I am going to figure it out.”

 

“Oh,” Bucky said numbly.

 

“Let’s get started.”

 

Bucky thought about Steve’s eyelashes when the pain started to rip through his skull.

 

He thought about Steve’s laugh when his vision blacked out the first time.

 

He thought about the broad expanse of Steve’s shoulders when Zola made an appreciative humming noise.

 

He thought about the accusing wobble to Steve’s voice when his ears started to ring.

 

And he clung onto the hue of pink that colored Steve’s cheeks when the world whited out in a haze of static.

 

* * *

 

 

Bucky weakly raised himself onto his elbows, and looked around.

 

His surroundings were eerily quiet, only interrupted by the occasional technological blip.

 

He lifted his head, taking in the relative darkness of the room, only illuminated by a wall of projected screens.

 

Bucky took note of the man sitting in a swivel chair in front of all the screens.

 

“Um. Are you playing Galaga?” Bucky asked, his voice raspy.

 

The man whirled around faster than Bucky could blink. “The Winter Soldier?” he sounded delighted and shocked and wary all at once.

 

Bucky eyed him uneasily. “Uh?”

 

“How did you get here? Are you the reason why everything’s frozen?” the man asked.

 

“I don’t... know?”

 

The man got out of his chair to offer Bucky a hand. Bucky took it, and found himself being pulled to his feet.

 

He was surprisingly taller than the goateed man.

 

“What is this place?” Bucky asked, glancing around.

 

“Oh!” the man said. “I’ve been rude. Sorry, I don’t get many visitors... ever, actually. The name’s Tony. Tony Stark. And this is the Control Room. I oversee the whole arcade.”

 

“Wow. That’s pretty impressive,” Bucky said, genuinely impressed.

 

Tony looked bashful for half a second. “Aw, shucks. Keep that up, and you’ll find the compliments going to my head.”

 

Bucky smirked a little. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

 

“Anyway, I’m not really sure what you’re here for, although your story is a decidedly sad one. Dear lord, the angst, the angst. Especially with your new romantic developments with Steve-o.” Tony waggled his eyebrows. “You’re so perfect for each other. Mmm, the story is making me want to cry right now. Oh, hey. That reminds me. How did you like JARVIS? JARVIS is like a prototype software I’m designing to carry out requests. You totally found him in Espionage Ballerina, and he actually took you to Ripped Racers, which is basically fate. Science fate,” Tony rambled.

 

Bucky shifted his weight. “What?”

 

Tony looked a little surprised that he was still there. “Oh, right. You’re here. Sorry, Barnes. I told you I’m not used to company.”

 

“Why do you know everything about me and Steve?”

 

Tony frowned. “Well, for one, it’s my _job_. And also, you two are the most interesting thing that’s happened all year. Maybe since the arcade opened... Wait, actually, there was this one time Ultron kidnapped the Maximoffs. That was funny. But I digress. Anyways, I mean, I liked you before tonight. Something about the whole villain-who-wants-to-be-good tragedy really appeals. But this whole drama thing with Steve? Makes you even better.”

 

“Uh. Thanks?”

 

“No problem,” Tony said. “Come on. I’m not sure why you’re here, but while you are, come help me out with unfreezing the world.”

 

Bucky followed Tony to the monitors, and realized that, yeah, everything was frozen.

 

All across the arcade, people were paused in various positions, all of which had stories behind them.

 

His eyes wandered to Ripped Racers, finding Steve curled into the fetal position inside his volcano.

 

He looked around and saw himself in the prison chamber at Zola’s feet. “Is that me?” he asked Tony, pointing.

 

Tony nodded grimly. “I’ve always hated that Zola guy.”

 

“I’m not too fond of him either,” Bucky said wryly.

 

Tony’s hands flew over a keyboard. “Nothing’s working,” he exclaimed in frustration after a moment.

 

Bucky paused. “You said you didn’t get visitors?” Tony nodded. “Well, maybe the games have to pause when you do so that no one will just weirdly disappear.”

 

Tony grinned. “You’re even better in real life.”

 

“I try.”

 

“If you’re here for advice about your current situation, then I have a lot. Where to begin?” Tony paused, looking heavenward theatrically. “First order of business, you made a huge mistake with the motorcycle thing.”

 

“Elaborate,” Bucky said, crossing his arms.

 

Tony pointed to one of the frozen monitors, showing the actual console for Ripped Racers. “Look.”

 

Bucky leaned closer to the screen, and his stomach dropped.

 

“That’s Steve.”

 

Sure enough, Steve was literally on the front of the console, wearing a ridiculous star-spangled uniform under his usual leather jacket as he rode his motorcycle.

 

“Yeah, it is.”

 

“What does that mean?” he asked numbly.

 

Tony sighed. “It means that Steve was meant to be in the game.”

 

Bucky leaned back in shock. “That means Steve’s not a glitch.”

 

“Bingo, Buck-o.”

 

“Then why can he teleport?” Bucky demanded, growing frantic.

 

“Because someone messed with the code,” Tony said, face going grim.

 

“ _Who_?”

 

Tony zoomed in on one of the monitors. “What’s his name in this game? Alexander Pierce, right?”

 

Bucky felt his blood start to boil. “Fucking Pierce. How did this happen?”

 

“You ever heard the story of Hydra?”

 

Bucky frowned to himself, feeling inexplicably unsettled. “Maybe?”

 

Tony leaned back, crossing his arms. The shadows on his face looked eerie in the blue-ish glow of the screens. “Hydra was a game in the arcade a while back. It was here before most of the games. The main character was a racer named Baron Hydra, and he was the most popular guy in the arcade. Eventually, though, games got better, and Hydra lost audience intrigue. The Baron couldn’t take that, and he left his game to integrate himself as the main character in the new racing game. The new game mutated into something different, glitching all the time, until both of the games were shut down. The Baron has been moving from racing game to racing game since before you even existed.”

 

Bucky was silent, taking it all in. “So, when he came to Ripped Racers, he yanked out Steve’s character and inserted himself?”

 

“Bingo again,” Tony said.

 

“I feel a little sick.”

 

“I’m not surprised. They guy manipulated you into destroying Steve’s dream. Not to mention his rightful destiny.”

 

“Oh my god.” Bucky leaned over, bracing his elbows on the table.

 

He felt a hand at his back. “Hey, hey. It’s okay. We’ll figure it out.”

 

Bucky stared at Steve’s figure on the monitors but found that he couldn’t make out his features anymore.

 

“Oh god, you’re crying. Don’t cry. Um. I don’t know how to do this.” Tony sounded incredibly panicked.

 

Bucky straightened, sniffling and wiping at his eyes. “Sorry.”

 

Tony gave him a relieved smile, shoulders relaxing. “I got scared for a second there.”

 

“Yeah, I just... It’s been a stressful night.”

 

“I know,” Tony said softly. “And I’m telling you, you can fix everything if Steve crosses the finish line at the race tonight. It’ll automatically restart the game. But there’s more than just that.”

 

Bucky waited, dread settling more firmly in the pit of his stomach.

 

“You accidentally carried a spider over from Espionage Ballerina. And it’s spread. All over.”

 

Bucky gritted his teeth. “Can I ever do _anything_ right?”

 

Tony blinked in surprise. “You helped Steve when no one else would.”

 

“But I fucked it up.”

 

“But we can fix it,” Tony said, smiling crookedly. “That’s what I do. I fix things. I can help you out.”

 

“You’re gonna help me? Why?” Bucky asked, startled.

 

Tony’s smile went brittle and his eyes went distant. “I get a little lonely.” Bucky followed his gaze to a monitor on the opposite side of the wall to the Tavern. He was about to ask why Tony was staring nostalgically at Bruce Banner when Tony interrupted.

 

“All right! We start with the motorcycle. While you two were interacting, I actually thought up some ways to improve it, so this’ll be the funnest thing I’ve done in ages.”

 

“I can’t wait,” Bucky grumbled to himself, sitting on the edge of the table with a sigh.

 

* * *

 

 

“ _Viola_!” Tony said with a theatrical flourish towards Steve’s new and improved motorcycle.

 

Bucky whistled lowly, impressed. “A feat of engineering and a major aesthetic upgrade. I like your style, Stark.”

 

Tony bowed. “It’s what I do.”

 

Bucky ran his hands over the handles. “You really think this’ll get him to forgive me.”

 

Tony shrugged. “If it doesn’t, try confessing your undying love.”

 

Bucky choked on his next breath, cheeks heating. “I am not-“

 

“Right. That’s more of a fifth date thing. Does that number sound right to you?” Tony mused, more to himself than Bucky, but Bucky still lifted a shoulder helplessly.

 

“There’s one more problem, though. I’m still in prison, and so is Clint.”

 

Tony snapped his fingers. “I can’t really do much to manipulate the world as Overseer Of All, but I can move inanimate objects sometimes.”

 

“And what does that have to do with anything?” Bucky asked slowly.

 

Tony leaned forward, pointing at the screen that Bucky was in. “I can bust open the bars in your cell. It’ll lead you to Clint’s cell, and then I can bust the conveniently placed window in his cell so that you boys can escape.”

 

Bucky frowned. “But I’m handcuffed. Plus, Zola.”

 

“I’ll handle the handcuffs, and Zola was packing up his stuff anyways while you were losing consciousness. By the time you wake up from whatever this thing is, you’ll be ready to go,” Tony announced.

 

Bucky decided not to ask how he’d do it. Tony _was_ a genius and all. He did hesitate on the last thing he wanted to ask, though. “Hey, Tony?”

 

“What’s up, Bucky?”

 

Bucky swallowed heavily. “Is there something wrong in my code with the whole hero-villain thing? Zola thinks there’s something wrong.”

 

Tony paused, then turned to carefully evaluate Bucky’s expression. Cautiously, he said, “The code provides a skeleton and a role for you to play. That’s all.” He tapped Bucky’s chest, right above his heart. “You create everything else for yourself. Wanting something more? That wasn’t a mistake. That’s just your big heart peaking through. And you made that for yourself.”

 

Bucky gave Tony a watery smile. “Thank you.”

 

Tony shrugged, evidently uncomfortable as he avoided eye contact. “Yeah, well, I know the code better than I know myself.”

 

Bucky surprised himself and Tony by going in for a tight hug. Tony awkwardly patted his back for a moment before saying, “Okay, show time.”

 

“I’ll miss you,” Bucky said, stepping away.

 

Tony smirked. “I know. But don’t worry about me. I’ll get by without you.”

 

Bucky chuckled and closed his eyes as the room faded out.

  

* * *

 

 

 

When he woke up again, Zola was gone, his handcuffs were suspiciously missing, and the bars leading to Clint’s cell had been removed.

 

Bucky did his best to ignore the steady ringing in his ears and the pain in his skull as he used his metal arm to swing himself over the barrier.

 

(Bucky had quietly left the medal earned from Espionage Ballerina in his cell.)

 

“Clint?” he whispered, and his voice came out hoarse.

 

Clint looked at him, relieved. “Oh, thank god you’re okay. You’ve been screaming for the past forever.”

 

Bucky smiled. “I’m okay. I checked out for a little bit, but I’m okay.”

 

“You come to rescue me?”

 

“Always.”

 

Clint opened his mouth, looking confused. “How did you escape the handcuffs?”

 

As soon as the words left his mouth, Clint’s own handcuffs vanished.

 

Clint let out an actual squawk, and Bucky could practically see Tony cackling in his Control Room.

 

Bucky giggled. “What can I say? I have friends in high places. Come on, I’ve got something to fix.”

 

Clint wordlessly followed him as they climbed out the window, landing with a thud in the back of the palace grounds, where they found Steve’s motorcycle waiting for them.

 

“Whoa,” Clint whispered.

 

“Right? Let’s go.”

 

Bucky hopped onto the motorcycle, sort of aware of the controls due to Tony’s babbling as he worked and Steve’s triumphs in figuring things out.

 

Clint hesitantly climbed on behind him, wrapping his arms around his waist. “I have two concerns I need to voice. One: Do I need to say no homo?”

 

Bucky gave him a look.

 

Clint grinned. “Noted. And two: Do you know how to ride this?”

 

Bucky shrugged. “Let’s see.”

 

Clint’s eyes widened comically before Bucky revved the engine and they were speeding off, towards the volcano that dominated the horizon.

 

Bucky laughed at the feeling of the wind in his face. Clint’s arms tightened around his waist. Bucky thought he could hear him praying.

 

Before long, Bucky skidded to a stop in front of the volcano, dismounting with jiggly legs. “Clint, you wait here and watch the bike. I have to talk to someone.”

 

Clint nodded weakly, dropping to his knees as he looked at the ground lovingly.

 

Bucky took a deep breath, squared his shoulders, and pushed through the break in the code.

  

* * *

 

 

 

“Steve?”

 

Bucky looked down at him, but he didn’t react from his curled-up position.

 

“Stevie?”

 

“What are you doing back here?” Steve asked quietly.

 

Bucky let out a breath, dropping to his knees beside him, although Steve didn’t move.

 

“I messed up.”

 

Steve said nothing.

 

“This is going to sound crazy, but after I passed out from Zola’s experiments, I had this transcendental experience with this guy named-“

 

Steve turned over. “Wait. Back up. Experiments?”

 

Bucky frowned. “Yeah. Zola started digging into my code after Pierce took me prisoner.”

 

Steve looked vaguely sick. “Oh.”

 

“Anyway, I met this guy named Tony Stark, who can see everything in the entire arcade. And I figured out something.”

 

After a pause, Steve whispered, “What?”

 

“Pierce is Hydra, and he lied to me. To everyone. You’re not a glitch, Steve. You’re the main character of Ripped Racers. Everyone was wrong about you.”

 

Steve eyed him doubtfully. “You’re funny,” he huffed dryly. “If you think that lame attempt at storytelling is going to make me forgive you, then you’re sorely mistaken, pal.”

 

“I’m not lying. You just have to win this race, and you’ll see. Pierce messed with your code.”

 

Steve sighed, propping himself up on one elbow. “You’re forgetting that you destroyed my fucking motorcycle.”

 

Bucky looked down. “I’m so sorry... But...”

 

Steve arched an eyebrow.

 

“Come on. I can’t say it, I’ll just show you.” He stood, outstretching a hand for Steve to take. After an indeterminate amount of time, Steve reached out and took his hand, hauling to his feet.

 

Steve tried to release his grip immediately, but Bucky tightened his hold, turning to lead him out of the volcano.

 

When Steve saw the motorcycle, everything went still.

 

Then.

 

“How did this happen?” Steve asked, sounding choked off.

 

Bucky turned to face him, giving his hand a squeeze. “The guy I was telling you about helped me out. Steve, you’re going to win this race. You’re so important, and so special, and so much better than all the losers in this game. Even if you think you’re just a glitch, you’re not. You’re _my_ hero too.”

 

Steve looked like he was about to cry, reaching for Bucky a little blindly as he crushed him to his chest. Bucky felt Steve’s shoulders start to shake, and rubbed circles on his back soothingly.

 

“I was such an idiot. I was a fucking shithead jerkface,” Bucky whispered into Steve’s chest.

 

“You were,” Steve gasped, “You still are.”

 

Bucky smiled tearfully. “You forgive me?”

 

Steve didn’t respond right away. He was trying to calm down. Once he composed himself enough, he pulled back. “I’m definitely on track to eventually forgiving you.”

 

Bucky tried to smother a relieved grin. “I’ll take what I can get.”

 

Somewhere behind him, Clint cleared his throat. “Introduce me to your new friend, Bucky.”

 

Bucky blushed, glancing behind him. He hadn’t even registered Clint since seeing Steve. “Clint, this is Steve. Steve, this is Clint.”

 

They waved awkwardly at each other, Steve furiously wiping at his tearstained cheeks.

 

Steve approached his motorcycle, feeling the material reverently, as Clint walked up to Bucky and whispered, “You didn’t tell me about the manbeef?”

 

Bucky rolled his eyes. “He’s not manbeef. He’s a delicate person with feelings and an incredible physique.”

 

Clint gave him a look. “You should say that in your wedding vows.”

 

Bucky sighed, rubbing a hand across his jaw. “Clint, he doesn’t even forgive me yet. I don’t think we should be joking about a fucking marriage.”

 

“He will, though. And you two will get married, and have adorable babies.”

 

Bucky ducked his head, mortified. “ _Clint_ , stop.”

 

Clint snickered to himself, clearly smug.

 

Steve looked up sharply. “Shit. We need to get to the race right now.”

 

“Yeah, we’re cutting things a little close. Can I trust you to go ahead without getting yourself killed?” Bucky teased.

 

Steve offered a wry but amused smile. “I think I can manage.”

 

“Then go. We’ll meet you at the finish line.”

 

Steve grinned, revved the engine once, and was off. Bucky touched the medal Steve had made him absentmindedly.

 

Clint saw the spectacle, and his face softened. “That’s fucking adorable.”

 

Bucky flushed. “Shaddup.”

 

Clint clapped him on the back. “Come on. Let’s watch your boy win.”

 

Bucky couldn’t help the little skip in his step as they ran after Steve.

 

* * *

 

 

By the time they arrived, they racers were already halfway through the course, their whereabouts displayed on massive screens in front of the bleachers.

 

Bucky scanned the screens, and simultaneously relaxed and jumped in excitement as he saw that Steve was in third place.

 

Bucky grabbed Clint by the arm, pointing. “LOOK AT HOW WELL HE’S DOING!”

 

Clint’s eyes crinkled. “I _know_.”

 

“CLINT!”

 

Bucky and Clint both turned towards the voice. Familiar and urgent, Bucky cocked his head curiously as the redhead from Espionage Ballerina pushed her way through the crowds to reach them.

 

“Natasha?” Clint asked, grabbing her elbows to steady her. “You okay?”

 

Natasha shook her head miserably. “They’re not _listening_ to me.”

 

Then it dawned on Bucky.

 

He’d forgotten Tony’s warning about the spiders.

 

“Oh, shit,” he whispered.

 

Natasha turned to him. “They’re everywhere, burrowed underground, but they’re mutating to the game’s code. And if we’re not quick, something disastrous could-“

 

The ground shook.

 

“Oh no,” Clint said.

 

A giant spider leg clawed through the ground as the black widow (updated to look more in-tune with the motorcycle game) came crawling through the dirt, reaching the surface.

 

Bucky and Clint screamed along with anyone else as Natasha watched grimly.

 

“Oh, god,” Bucky whimpered, “ _Steve_.”

 

“He’ll be okay,” Clint murmured weakly. “It’s _us_ I’m worried about.”

 

Bucky’s eyes flickered to the screen as Steve glitched in front of a racer to reach second place.

 

Another massive spider clawed to the surface, sending the terrified masses into turmoil.

 

“We have to get these people out of here!” Natasha shouted.

 

Bucky nodded to himself rapidly. “Get them to the Wire! I’ll wait here for the racers!”

 

Clint and Natasha exchanged glances before taking charge, shouting over the noise to direct the panicking crowds towards the Wire.

 

Bucky was so happy they were here.

 

He watched the screen, where Alexander Pierce was visibly taunting Steve, but he wasn’t paying the course as much attention as it required, and soon enough, he got sloppy. Steve gave a little smirk as Pierce wavered and fell off the slope of a ravine, leaving Steve in first place.

 

Bucky shouted at the stragglers to move to the Wire, then proceeded to direct the racers who had wiped out and appeared at the finish line.

 

Finally, _fucking finally_ , Bucky could see Steve’s motorcycle speeding towards the finish line. Just as he reached the home stretch, a spider kicked over the finish line’s banner, and more crawled over it.

 

Bucky’s shoulders sagged as he shouted. “STEVE, COME ON, WE’VE GOTTA GET OUT OF HERE!”

 

Steve swerved to a stop in front of him, eyes wide in horror. “What’s going on?”

 

“I fucked up. I’ll explain when you’re safe. Come on.”

 

Steve grabbed him by the arm and pulled him on the back of the motorcycle. Bucky wrapped his arms around Steve’s waist, his head coming to rest on Steve’s shoulder. And it was dumb, but he’d never felt safer.

 

“You realize this is pointless,” Steve said as they neared the Wire.

 

“It’s not,” Bucky snapped, arms tightening their hold.

 

They reached the Wire, where Natasha and Clint were waiting.

 

Bucky took Steve’s hand and led him towards the empty car. Just as they were about to make it, an invisible force field pried Steve away from him.

 

“Bucky, I can’t leave the game,” Steve said desperately. “I’m a fucking glitch.”

 

Bucky stepped back into the game, grabbing both of Steve’s hands. “You’re not. You can’t be trapped here. I can’t-“

 

“Hey, it’s okay,” Steve said softly, reaching up to cup the side of his face. “Just get out of here, Buck.”

 

“I won’t leave without you,” Bucky whispered.

 

Steve shook his head. “You have to. You’ll die if you don’t.”

 

“Fine, then. I don’t care.”

 

“I do, though,” Steve said. “I care so much.”

 

“Steve,” Bucky begged.

 

“You will always be my hero, Buck.” And then, impossibly, in the middle of the collapsing game, Steve leaned down and pressed their lips together for a soft, lingering moment that tasted like heartbreak and goodbyes.

 

“Gentlemen, I hate to interrupt, but I have a really bad idea that has a small chance of working,” Natasha said as they broke apart, resting their foreheads against each other.

 

They turned towards her, their fingers laced and their faces grim.

 

Natasha pulled out a small bottle from somewhere in her suit (where the fuck could she fit it, though-? that thing was so tight) and let the three boys look at it.

 

“This is a sample of male black widow pheromones, which my spiders are attracted to. If you can somehow lure them to somewhere you can trap them, it may work. We’ll probably die in the process, though.”

 

Before anyone could say anything, Bucky reached forward and snatched the vial. “I’ve got this.”

 

Steve’s fingers tightened around his to the point of pain. “No.”

 

Bucky turned towards him, smiling sadly. “Stevie, this is literally my one chance to be a hero. Let me do this for you. You’re so good. You need to live and see yourself as how amazing you are, not just as a glitch. Let me do this, please,” he begged.

 

Steve scowled. “No. That’s bullshit.”

 

“It’s only bullshit because I want to do it. If you’d grabbed the vial first, then it’d be about powerful self-sacrifice. This is my choice, Steve.”

 

Steve shook his head. “Don’t you dare die on me, Barnes.”

 

Bucky gently brought their hands up to his lips to give Steve’s knuckles a kiss before he extracted his hand and took a step away. “I have a plan.”

 

Clint grabbed the sleeve of Bucky’s arm and pulled him into a hug. “Listen to your boy, okay? Don’t die on me.”

 

Natasha gave him a grim nod.

 

“You’re just going to let him go by himself, then?” Steve demanded frantically.

 

Bucky turned to Clint and Natasha, smiling sadly. “I need you guys here. Make sure he doesn’t do anything stupid like follow me.”

 

They gave him another nod, and Bucky turned, speeding off, trying to ignore Steve’s desperate shouts echoing behind him.

 

He had a plan that would only _probably_ get him killed.

 

The odds were terrible, but not nonexistent.

 

He could do this.

 

He could do this, and get back to Steve at the end of the day.

 

(Although he really didn’t expect to.)

 

* * *

 

 

The literal lava pit inside Steve’s volcano was where most of his plan came from.

 

Also, his metal arm.

 

When Bucky reached the base of the volcano, he catalogued a rough pathway to the top, suddenly blissfully thankful for his soldier’s programming.

 

He uncapped the vial, and waved the scent away from him. Then, he recapped it, and started his frantic climb, hearing the definite sounds of pursuit behind him.

 

Natasha’s plan was working. Bucky didn’t know why he’d ever doubted her.

 

The volcano was steep, but Bucky was used to a rocky, Alpine terrain from his own game. Climbing was practically second nature. He just prayed that he would reach the top before the spiders caught up to him.

 

Out of breath, Bucky crested the peak, pausing as he looked down to the pool of lava below.

 

He reached for the vial and-

 

And-

 

“You really didn’t think that would work, did you?”

 

Bucky whirled around and almost pissed himself in terror.

 

Alexander Pierce was towering over him, his face pale and blotchy. Where his torso was supposed to meet legs, however, he had morphed into the bulbous lower half of the black widow spider.

 

Bucky made a choked squeaking noise.

 

“Think about this for a moment, Mr. Barnes,” Pierce said, his voice coming out in a decidedly hiss-like manner. “You’re throwing away your life just to save an insignificant glitch.”

 

Bucky staggered a step backwards, closer to the hole of the volcano. Pierce advanced on him.

 

“He’s not insignificant at all,” Bucky whispered, somehow finding his voice.

 

Pierce laughed, and the sound rattled through Bucky’s bones. “That’s what I like about you, soldier. You always manage to see something that isn’t there in people.”

 

Bucky shook his head. “You lied to everyone about him. I know who you are.”

 

Bucky took another step back. He could hear the sounds of spiders getting closer as he discreetly unscrewed the cap of the vial.

 

“And who do you think I am?” Pierce said tauntingly, his spider’s legs dancing across jagged rock to come closer to Bucky.

 

Bucky lifted his chin. “You’re Hydra, and you don’t belong in this fucking game.”

 

Pierce’s face went staticy for an instant as his expression went livid. Bucky blinked, and a horrifically red face had replaced the weathered features of Alexander Pierce. His defined bone structure shone in the faint light from the lava below, and it was all Bucky could do to hold back his scream.

 

“I should congratulate you for putting everything together,” Pierce sneered, face flickering rapidly between the two forms. “Instead, I think I’m just going to fucking _eat_ you.”

 

That was unexpected.

 

Bucky shrieked at Pierce’s sudden rapid advance. He skittered backwards until he was tottering on the edge of the hole to fall to certain death.

 

Pierce smirked. “End of the line, Barnes.”

 

Bucky took in his surroundings. He saw a massive black widow claw to the top of the volcano, and he saw the vial in his hand and the lava below. He saw Pierce’s looming form and Steve’s wonderful features in his mind’s eye.

 

And he knew what he had to do.

 

“Not exactly,” Bucky said. With that, he pushed off with the balls of his feet, falling backwards into the volcano.

 

With his flesh fingers, he held tightly to the vial before letting it drop down to the pool below. With his metal fingers, he grabbed the medal that Steve had made him and closed his eyes.

 

Everything seemed to slow down.

 

Somewhere, Bucky heard, “ _I’m bad... and that’s good. I’ll never be good, and that’s not bad..._ ”

 

Bucky could feel the heat approaching fast.

 

“ _...There’s no one I’d rather be... than me_.”

 

He thought he heard a motorcycle’s engine in the distance.

 

“NO WAY IN FUCKING HELL!”

 

Bucky’s eyes snapped open.

 

Steve Rogers was careening across the half-finished track via motorcycle, on due course to intercept Bucky’s fall.

 

Bucky could hardly interpret the sight in front of him before Steve was reaching out and grabbing Bucky’s hand.

 

He felt his body go all fuzzy, and the atmosphere fizzed out for an instant. Then, he was lying at the base of Steve’s motorcycle on the abandoned raceway that ran through the volcano. “Come on!” Steve said urgently, practically heaving him onto the back of the motorcycle. “We’ve gotta _move_!”

 

Bucky let out a whimper and held tight. Steve didn’t waste time. He started the accelerator and they sped down the track.

 

Bucky looked behind him, watching with morbid fascination as the black widows started to fall helplessly into the pit of lava.

 

He could hear Pierce shrieking. “IDIOTIC CREATURES! WHY ARE YOU FOLLOWING HIM?”

 

Not an instant later, Pierce was following the cascade of black bodies down below, screaming to his traitorous mutant-body the whole way.

 

Bucky shut his eyes before he could see Pierce make contact with the lava.

 

“We’re okay,” Steve muttered, mostly to himself, as they sped out of the volcano and into the newly spider-free land. “We’re okay.”

 

“How did you...?” Bucky asked numbly.

 

Bucky felt Steve’s shoulders bunch up in tension. “I may or may not have severely threatened Clint and Natasha to let me go. They don’t know me enough to care about keeping me safe.”

 

Bucky let out a delirious laugh, letting his forehead fall against Steve’s shoulder. “Either that or they realized you were actually going to help me instead of try to stop me.”

 

“They’re smart,” Steve conceded, “so maybe.”

 

Bucky lurched to his feet and Steve followed, gracefully stepping off the motorcycle to carefully turn to him. “Are you okay?” he asked softly, taking Bucky’s hands and stroking along Bucky’s wrists.

 

Bucky’s lip trembled. “Did you see Pierce?” His voice sounded properly terrified. “I’m going to... I think I need to...”

 

Bucky pushed himself away a few paces so that he could promptly throw up the contents of his stomach into the dirt. Steve followed behind, pulling the hair out of Bucky’s face and stroking at his back until the spasmodic shudders subsided.

 

“No offense,” Steve said when Bucky finally straightened, “but I am definitely not going to kiss you after that.”

 

“Ever?” Bucky teased weakly.

 

Steve gave a self-deprecating wince. “Not unless you want me?”

 

Bucky sagged into Steve’s chest, properly exhausted. “God, of course I want you. You’re so important to me. You’re-“ Bucky looked up sharply. “You have to cross the finish line.”

 

Steve looked a little confused. “Uh?”

 

“It’ll restart the game, and you’ll be a racer. You’ll see. Come on.”

 

Steve hesitated a beat before dragging his motorcycle along his side until they finally reached the finish line.

 

They stood before it for an apprehensive moment, Steve straddling his seat uneasily.

 

“Go,” Bucky whispered, smiling encouragingly.

 

Steve squared his shoulders and rolled gently across the line.

 

Everything went dark for a terrible moment.

 

“Buck-?”

 

Bucky was blinded as the lights came back in stunning color, making everything from before that moment look washed-out. Bucky turned in a full circle, and the game wasn’t made of dark mud and brown rocks and dry vegetation anymore. Now, it was green with jungle, blue with streams, and streaked rainbow with animals and forgotten relics half-sunk into the mud.

 

Bucky was in awe before he even saw Steve.

 

Steve seemed to be surrounded by a dancing curtain of sunshine, suspended half-a-foot above the ground. Instead of his beat-up leather jacket and pants, he was wearing a slim uniform with a star over his chest. It was primarily blue with the white star and red accentuating lines here and there.

 

“Oh my god,” Bucky whispered to himself.

 

As soon as Steve returned to the ground, he frowned, examining himself. “Huh.” The syllable was drawn-out.

 

Around them, all of the participants and citizens of Ripped Racers had appeared as if by some magic. They were staring at Steve in shock.

 

“Fuck, I just remembered. Pierce totally stole his place, and Steve’s actually the Chancellor,” somebody said.

 

Steve looked up, as if the idea unsettled him. “I guess I am,” he said slowly, frowning like he was deeply troubled.

 

“Fuck,” Rumlow said.

 

Steve turned his gaze on him but said nothing. Then, he looked at Bucky. “I like my other outfit better,” he confessed quietly.

 

Bucky grinned. “So change it.”

 

Steve offered a hesitant smile, looking back down at himself. His body was replaced by static for a second. When he sharpened into focus, he was wearing his same outfit again. “Much better,” he decided.

 

“What are you gonna do to us?” Rumlow blurted out as if he couldn’t help himself.

 

Steve smirked. “Well, I’m not going to execute you if that’s what you’re worried about. But I am going to make sure you don’t fucking bully anyone ever again in your damn life.”

 

Rumlow nodded rapidly to himself.

 

Steve looked to the greater crowd, raising his voice authoritatively. “Most of you guys were really shitty to me, and I want you to know that I will forgive you if you make an effort to change your prejudiced ways. You’ve got a glitch for Chancellor now. You better get used to the idea of people who are different.”

 

The crowd murmured amongst themselves until Steve was lost in the din of cacophony. People had lost interest in him and were moving on to their newly vibrant surroundings.

 

With that, Steve turned to Bucky. “Will you visit me?” he asked.

 

Bucky grinned. “As long as you want me to.”

 

“Forever,” Steve said immediately.

 

Bucky blushed. “And you’ll visit me too?”

 

Steve rolled his eyes. “We’ll see if the glitching eased up enough to let me leave the game.”

 

Bucky thought about Tony and took a step closer. “Somehow, I don’t think that’ll be a problem anymore.”

 

Steve closed the gap further by taking another step. “You’ve got high-up connections?”

 

“Don’t you know it,” Bucky agreed, subconsciously leaning forward.

 

Suddenly, Bucky heard a familiar voice rise above the crowd. “HEY! Let’s hear it for Chancellor Steve Rogers!”

 

The crowd erupted into cheers and they both turned towards a smirking Clint. Natasha was at his side, looking relieved and relaxed and even a little happy.

 

A blonde woman pushed through the crowd and shook Steve’s hand. “I’m so sorry about everything,” she said, and she sounded nakedly honest.

 

Steve smiled at her. “Thank you, Sharon.”

 

And suddenly, everyone was closing towards Steve, wanting to say something or pat him on the back for restoring the game and getting rid of Pierce.

 

Bucky retreated to the outskirts of the crowd, and couldn’t help but marvel at the bubble of contentment rapidly thawing at his exterior.

 

Bucky Barnes was happy.

  

* * *

 

 

 

“Mr. Barnes, would you like to add anything today?”

 

Bucky looked up at Sam and gave a hesitant little smile. “Yeah, I think I would.”

 

Sam couldn’t help his surprised look. “You have the floor, then.”

 

Bucky looked around at all his fellow villains before he started to speak.

 

“So, it all started at our meeting, when I admitted to wanting something more for myself...”

 

Bucky went into detail about the whole story, elaborating expressively with his hands and taking pleasure in the fact that everyone seemed to be completely absorbed in the tale by the end.

 

“...And the best part of my day is after I fall off the train and the arcade closes for the night. My best friend, Clint, always helps me back up to the camp, and we hang out without the soldiers for a while. But the _best_ -best part of my day is when we take the Wire to Game Central, and I get to see Steve again. It just blows me away how he still somehow manages to want to be around me. And by now, I figure, if a guy as good as him thinks I’m a hero? Well... I must not be so bad.”

 

“Wait, wait,” Dottie interrupted, a scowl plastered over her face. “What happened to Clint and Natasha? You can’t expect us to believe that they just parted ways.”

 

Bucky smirked. “Indeed I don’t. It’s ironic, considering Clint was the one joking about Steve and I getting married, but they actually ended up getting married before I’ve even started seriously thinking about it.”

 

“Really?” the Mandarin prompted. “Wow, that was fast.”

 

Bucky laughed. “Actually, it’s been a few months since this all went down, so not really. It was a great ceremony. I was the best man. Steve was the maid of honor- he and Nat really hit it off after the whole incident. Clint and Nat wrote their own vows. It was all very sweet, and the best part? No spiders at the ceremony.”

 

“And to clarify,” Yellow Jacket cut in, “you and Steve are dating?”

 

Bucky blushed, scratching the back of his head absentmindedly. “Yeah, we are. He’s the one who insisted I still come to these meetings, and I’m glad he did. They help a lot- knowing there are people in similar situations to me.”

 

Loki scoffed. “Doubtful. You would not _believe_ what Thor did this week.”

 

“Loki, before you start talking, let’s wrap this up with Bucky,” Sam said, then turned his attention back to Bucky. “Are you happy?”

 

Bucky’s lips quirked upwards. “Yeah. I am.”

 

Sam’s eyes crinkled. “I’m really happy to hear that.”

 

“Wait,” Ultron blurted out belatedly. “Did you say that there’s a guy literally watching us from the sky at all times?”

 

Bucky rolled his eyes. “He’s not in the sky. He’s in a Control Room. And his name’s Tony. He’s cool.”

 

“AS I WAS SAYING,” Loki snapped, “Let’s get back to me and Thor.”

 

Bucky slouched back in his seat as Loki went off.

  

* * *

 

 

 

“How was the meeting?” Steve asked, lacing their fingers together as they strolled back to Game Central Station.

 

Bucky shrugged. “I told them the story.”

 

Steve gave him a blinding grin. “Good.”

 

Just because he could, Bucky grabbed Steve loosely by the back of his neck and pulled him down for a chaste kiss. Steve made an appreciative noise.

 

“Maybe you should talk about your feelings more often. It makes you handsy.”

 

Bucky snorted. “Aaaaaand you ruined the moment. I feel like I’m back to my normal grumpy self now.”

 

Steve smirked. “Clearly. I can tell.”

 

They were quiet for a moment as they continued to walk.

 

“It’s a good story,” Bucky finally said, smiling for absolutely no reason.

 

Steve nodded, his fingers tightening their grip. “We are made of good stories.”

 

And Bucky thought back on the last few months of every moment they’d shared. He licked his lips, and glanced at Steve out of the corner of his eye because looking at Steve was like looking at the sun.

 

“I’d have to agree with you on that one, partner.”

 

And this? This was just one small end to one of their _many_ good stories.

**Author's Note:**

> [I'm on tumblr.](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/thecommodoresquid)


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